Prelude To a Hangover
by mahala-la-la
Summary: ~Under New Managment~
1. Prelude To a Hangover

Prelude To A Hangover

  
  
The night was warm with a sweet breeze that would have rustled the trees had there been any. It was going to be a long night and only a few patrons had entered before a young lady, young man, and older gentleman made there way into Charle's bar one by one. They chose their respective seats and ordered their drinks.  
  
At first it didn't seem like they were together. They all shyed away from any kind of communication, whether it be eye contact or otherwise. The young man chose to sit at the corner table. The table was rectangular in shape and a single light swung back and forth from the ceiling. He reached in his breast pocket and pulled out a magazine as the waitress arrived at the table.  
  
"What will you be having this evening?" she asked cheerily as he began to take his navy blue jacket off and lay it on the chair back.  
  
"Mariachi Bourbon, please. Oh. . and. .uh bring the bottle," he said pulling the wooden chair out and sitting down.  
  
"Be right back," she replied with a smile.  
  
"Ahem, I said I wanted a scotch" while the scene in the corner unfolded the young lady had already sat at the other end of the bar.  
  
"Oh. .um, I'm sorry. My mind was somewhere else." I said as I took the glass I was wiping, so deligently, and placed it on a napkin in front of her. I put three cubes of ice in and filled the glass up, watching as the waitress walked back over to the corner.  
  
The older gentleman had already thrown his hand up and motioned for a waitress as well and was waiting for her to bring back his beer. He was seated at a small wooden table at the stage waiting for the musician, that's always here, to come and play his song. They all sit in their personal daydream until the clock strikes nine. This is when they all acknowlegde each other as a young man strolls on to the stage. 


	2. One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer

  
  
Part One: One Bourbon  
  
He sits in the corner. One hand on a porno mag and the other holding a cigarette and scratching his head. On the table his legs are resting beside an ash tray full of half smoked cigarettes. His blue suit and pale yellow dress shirt wrinkle to his body's relaxed position. The waitress brings him another bottle of Mariachi Bourbon. He doesn't seem to notice her. He seems to be thinking of something or someone else. Maybe it's the girls in the magazine or maybe an article he's reading (yeah right ^_-). Maybe it's a long lost love or maybe his next scheme to catch a bounty head. It's the latter because every once and a while you'll see him look up to the bar where a young lady sits. They exchange glances and he pours himself a glass of bourbon.  
  
Part Two: One Scotch  
  
She's at the bar downing drinks like there's no tomorrow. She lites another cigarette and takes a long drag and lets the smoke billow out of her small mouth. She is wearing a yellow vinyl halter with matching shorts and red button down shirt that hangs off her cream colored shoulders. She seems to look at the young man more than he looks at her and seems impatient for him to make a move first. She taps her foot to the slow bluesy piece being played by the musician tonight. It takes her away from her long and short term problems. Her green eyes tell the story, that she can't tell you herself. But she doesn't want to think of what she can't remember, it just agitates her more. Her drink of choice is scotch and like I said she drinks it like water. She looks from glass, to young man, to musician, to bartender, to an older man closer to the stage. The younger man looks at her again and she proceeds to look at the older man who in turn looks at the younger man. They must be together. 'Bar keep bring me another'  
  
Part Three: One Beer  
  
His body moves with the music as if in a trance. He is sitting at a small, round, wooden table at the foot of the stage. His eyes are closed and his mouth is drawn in a smile. He is truly in his element. He chugs the beer on his table before waving for the waitress to fill it up again. She obligues for the money and the hope that in a few minutes the three will leave so she can go home. He looks at the young lady at the bar then to the young man at the corner table. He motions them to come sit with him but they decline. He shrugs and goes back to his love. He knows they will all be meeting shortly anyways. He finishes his mug and lays back in his seat. Waiting for the big finish.  
  
They all looked at the clock. It was 10:30 and though that is usually a prime time for pubs, this night was slow so they decided to close early, real early. The musician put his trumpet away as the elder man clapped and approached the stage. The other two had slipped out. The young man left money enough to cover his drinks. The young lady had dissappeared not paying for all she'd drank. The elder man talked to the musician and walked with him out the bar, paying for the young lady's and his drinks. I was cleaning tables and putting chairs up when I heard a ruckus outside. I ran to the door to see the young man punch the musician and the musician defended himself by hitting him with his instrument case. He then ran in the shadows behind a faded red ship. The other man and young lady ran after him as the young man picked himself up and ran as well before he slowed down and started walking instead. In the scuffling I heard yelling and punches thrown, then gunshots.  
  
"Damn it Faye, he's got to be alive or we don't get the money." the elder man said .  
  
"Don't worry. I just got him in the leg to immobilize him. Besides I need the money just as much or even more than you, Jet." I listened carefully and heard Jet hurumph and laugh slightly to see his buddy finally catching up to them.  
  
"Spike, it's nice of you to join us." the young lady said sarcastically. Spike must be the young man.  
  
"Yeah, he's got quite the swing. And I wouldn't want to have my share of the bounty given to a charity case." It was time for Spike to take another blow, but from Faye this time. I heard them walking back to the lighted part of the ship. Jet, the elder man, put the bounty head in his huge yellow ship and the others followed suit, but not without cursing or kicking their respective ships.  
  
I found out the names of the bounty hunters . Spike, the younger man. Faye, the nonchalant lady. Jet, the bluesy old soul. Their lives are like the jazz or blues music that they listen to. Being like the uneven rhythm of the music. Sometimes a ballad and sometimes an up-tempo.  
  
I have to tell you one bourbon, one scotch and one beer have been in here many times after and each time they play their melodical part until the grand finalè.  
  
  
  
AN: I got the name of the story from an old John Lee Hooker song by the same name. And yes I know that it is kind of a rip-off of Jupiter Jazz Part 1 & 2. But I prefer to call it a 'tribute'. 


End file.
